


Rainy Day Insecurities

by wickedwitchcraft



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Chubby Aziraphale, Crowleys in love, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Insecure Aziraphale, Kissing, M/M, Supportive Crowley, Touching, crowley is nothing but in love and supportive, insecurities about being overweight, look at me i never write those i feel pretty good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwitchcraft/pseuds/wickedwitchcraft
Summary: Prompt: If you’re still looking for chubby Az prompts, I’ve got millions 😂 I think he might be reluctant taking off his shirt in front of Crowley for the first time and Crowley keeps trying to sniff out why he’s avoiding it every time they’re about to do anything- and eventually Az admits it’s because he doesn’t want him to be “disappointed.” It baffles Crowley, and breaks his heart. Obviously, he has to set his angel to rights and try to make sure that Az never feels that way ever againThanks so much for this lovely!!! <<<333
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 140





	Rainy Day Insecurities

Something was wrong.

The world had been saved. They’d gotten their shit together. Crowley had moved into the bookshop with his angel. And said angel had finally made a move. Crowley had taken it well. He definitely hadn’t cried. And even if he had… that’s beside the point. The point _was_. Something was wrong. Things had been good. And are good. Aside from one little thing. There was a problem.

They’d been… more intimate lately. In fact, two days ago, Aziraphale had _intimately_ pressed him into a bookshelf after hours and shattered him to pieces, and then put him back together again. There were still scorch marks on the shelf Crowley had been holding onto for dear life. He knew Aziraphale could miracle them away. Was confused about why he hadn’t, until he saw him walk past the shelf, his eyes passing over the blackened wood, a smirk curling his lips. He’d left them there on purpose. A memory. Crowley had shivered, his entire body trembling at the memory, and at the look Aziraphale had given him after smirking at the shelf. But that wasn’t the problem. It was, in fact, the exact _opposite_ of a problem, in Crowley’s opinion. No. The problem was _,_ Aziraphale’s shirt.

As problems go it was a small one. But that was just the tip of the problem, there was something else. Something _under_ the shirt. Some underlying issue that Aziraphale had been refusing to address. Any time Crowley tried to remove his shirt, the angel directed his hands elsewhere. And while Crowley was perfectly fine taking whatever Aziraphale gave him, shirtless or not, he could tell there was something else. Something deeper. He could feel it. And he could feel Aziraphale pushing it away. Hiding it deep. Burying it inside himself so that neither he, nor Crowley, could see it.

Crowley had this nagging little itch to go digging.

~*~

Aziraphale had his hands in Crowley’s hair, fingers tugging and soothing in a constant rhythm that was driving Crowley mad. Aziraphale had pulled him close, hours ago it seemed now. Pulled him in, nestled him between his thighs and held him there. And Crowley had left himself be pulled, nearly always did, letting Aziraphale take the lead, holding Crowley where he wanted him. His Jacket was gone. Crowley made quick work of it. The vest was next, now crumpled on the floor. Crowley’s nimble fingers had undone the fly on the angel’s pants in record time. He’d then snapped his fingers to remove the pants entirely. Aziraphale had pulled away from his mouth then, given him a look. Crowley closed the space again, mumbling something about not wanting to move. Aziraphale laughed into his mouth and pulled him closer still, fingers curling against Crowley’s scalp, making him shiver.

Crowley almost didn’t try it. Didn’t want to ruin the mood. Because he wanted this. He wanted his angel. Wanted to see what new way he’d thought of to completely turn him into a shaking mess. But the little voice in his head, the annoying one who was almost always chattering about Aziraphale’s this or that, had egged him on. And so, his hands moved slowly over Aziraphale’s sides, he gave his hips a rough squeeze and smiled against Aziraphale’s mouth when he writhed under the touch, pressing up into Crowley with a moan. His hands moved further, over the angel’s soft stomach, and found the buttons on his shirt. Aziraphale’s hands were on his wrists immediately. Fingers wrapped around his wrists gently.

“Crowley.” His voice a whisper against Crowley’s lips.

“What?” he whispered back, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Don’t.” Was the answer he received, and he felt his angel tense beneath him, in front of him, both beneath and little in front of him. He pulled back, putting more space between them so he could look at Aziraphale.

“Why not?” he pushed. He knew he was pushing. Knew this would make his angel uncomfortable. But he couldn’t help it. That itch to dig up what was bothering him was too strong. Aziraphale’s grip tightened, he pushed Crowley back even further.

“Crowley please.” He was begging now. His eyes not meeting Crowley’s. His hands gone from the demon’s skin, they were now tangled in his own lap, his eyes locked on them.

“Angel what’s wrong? I don’t understand.” Crowley pleaded, his hands open in front him, like he was waiting to be handed something, and in a way, he was. Aziraphale looked at him. His eyes much harder than they’d been in a very long while.

“There’s nothing to understand.” He sighed, through gritted teeth, snapping his fingers, his pants and vest back on him in an instant. Crowley made a sound in his throat and surged forward, stopping the angel from getting up, from walking away. His fingers now wrapped around the angels’ wrist.

“Please. There is. I can feel it. Every time I try to take your shirt off you stop me. Or move my hands somewhere else. And I’m not complaining, I enjoy whatever we do, shirt or no shirt I just…” he trailed off, moving to sit beside the angel, who was staring at him, eyes wide and clouded with what looked like suspicion. Crowley hated that.

“I can feel… something. Something bad. When I try to take your shirt off, something inside you. And I just- I want to understand.” He moved one hand up Aziraphale’s arm, over his shoulder, to press against his neck.

“I want to help. If I can.” He moved his thumb over Aziraphale’s jaw, and watched the angel watch him. He looked at him for a long moment. A very long moment. But Crowley didn’t move. He’d stay that way forever if he had to, until his angel was ready. Aziraphale deflated with a sigh, pressing into Crowley’s soft touch on his neck like a cat.

“It’s so stupid.” The angel said, a huff of laughter escaped him and then Crowley smelled it, salt. Aziraphale was crying.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, angel. You’re in pain. Please just tell me what’s wrong.” He moved his other hand to Aziraphale’s shoulder and pulled him close, arms wrapping around him, shielding him. But Crowley was having a sinking feeling that whatever it was that was bothering his angel, he may not be able to protect him from it. Aziraphale pulled away, just enough to look at him.

“Thank you my dear.” He smiled sadly, his eyes wet with tears.

“I just- I don’t want you to be… disappointed.” Aziraphale said, pulling away a bit more. Crowley let him, wanted him to have as much space as he needed.

“Disappointed?” Crowley echoed, confusion pulling his brows together. Aziraphale huffed and stood up, leaving Crowley on the couch to stare up at him.

“With this!” he moved his hands toward himself, up over the length of his body and then back down. Crowley’s frown deepened, he was terribly confused.

“With…” he started, not sure what to say, he had no clue what was happening. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing. This seemed to agitate the angel more, he sighed again, frustrated now.

“With me! With this body! It’s not- it’s not exactly in the best shape! Not like it once was. I’ve gone soft down here, on earth. Eating all that ridiculous food when I should have been preparing for a war. Oh it’s ridiculous Crowley. Please, just… forget about it.” he waved his hand, a tear falling as he turned away.

“Angel. I’m-“ he didn’t want to _say_ he was confused. Though he still was. Aziraphale seemed the perfect shape to him. All soft edges and warm beautiful curves. He’d been hypnotized the moment he’d seen the angel standing on the wall, all those years ago. Looking so very _touchable_ as the light had hit him just so. But he didn’t know what to say to not upset him.

“I like it.” is what came out. Blurted out awkwardly. Not said with any kind of softness, but he’d always been bad at that. He was good at shouting. He did it often. Words would flash though his mind and his mouth would open and they’d just force themselves out, over his forked tongue, past his teeth, and out into the open they’d go. And it would seem, though the situation was serious, his brain and mouth were still the same as they’d always been. Aziraphale turned to him, his eyebrows high.

“Pardon?’ he asked, his hands resting gently in the pockets of his vest.

“I said,” he cleared his throat and pushed himself off the couch.

“I like it. Your… shape. Or what have you.” He flailed his hand awkwardly in Aziraphale’s direction. The angel scoffed and turned away again.

“Really now, you don’t have to do that. I know how I look.” His voice was dismissive. Crowley growled inwardly. He was going to have try harder. Much _much_ harder. And he could do it. He knew he could. Maybe not for everyone. He’d certainly never tried hard for hell. But for his angel. He could do it. Just this once. And then any time in the future. Whenever his angel might need more reassurance.

“I really don’t think you do.” He mumbled, mostly to himself, but he knew Aziraphale could hear him. Knew he’d pick up on the tone in his voice, the exasperation, the hidden just beneath skin, _wanting_. He watched Aziraphale turn toward him, just the slightest, smallest, tiniest, bit. He could see his face in the reflection of the dark bookshop window, the rain falling outside distorting his features the smallest bit, but he could see that expression. The one that meant he was listening, begrudgingly, Crowley was _intimately_ familiar with that look.

“Oh no?” the angel asked, over his shoulder, his voice dripping with sarcasm, flippant even.

“No.” Crowley confirmed, his voice low in his throat as he began to walk, slowly, toward the angel.

“You really don’t.” he wiped his palms on his thighs and took another step.

“Because if you could see what I see. There would be no doubt in your mind. None at all.” He stared at Aziraphale’s reflection in the window, watched it staring back at him, brows creased in concentration now.

“Oh?” the angel asked, his shoulders swaying a bit more to the side. Crowley could feel him wanting to turn. But their eyes were locked in the window and it was like he couldn’t look away. Crowley smirked, satisfied that what he was attempting might actually work, and nodded.

“Yeah. Because what I see. Every time I look at you. Is beautiful.” He was close enough to touch the angel now, but he held back, kept his arms by his sides, traitorous hands twitching against his thighs.

“Your clothes don’t hide what’s underneath them angel. Not really. They cover you, but they don’t hide you away. And I know you try.” He sighs, close enough now the he could pull the angel to his chest. He doesn’t. He stops. Just inches away, and moves his hands to Aziraphale’s shoulders, rests them there and smiles, a small thing, when the angel sighs at the touch, eyes falling closed in the reflection on the window.

“You try so hard. All these thick, soft, layers, you cover yourself with. But I can still see it angel. I can still see _you_. All softness and curves.” Aziraphale tenses under his hands, Crowley presses his fingers into his shoulder and moves his hands down.

“It’s the curves you’re worried about then?” he asks, pressing forward, his nose pressing into the angel’s hair. Aziraphale shivers at the breath tickling his neck, and nods.

“Well I like them. A lot. Always have.” He moves his hands again, slowly pressing them under Aziraphale’s arms to wrap around his waist, resting his palms flat against his stomach.

“From the day I saw you standing on that wall. The light was hitting your robes so perfectly. Lighting you up. Making you shine. And I could see everything angel. All your curves, all the softness. Everything I could ever want to touch. Shining in that light, like it was waiting for me.” He moved his fingers deftly over the well-worn buttons of Aziraphale’s vest, pushing each one through slowly, with meaning, making Aziraphale shiver as he pressed against his back.

“Crowley.” He breathed, and it sounded as if was admonishing him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, nosing at the angel’s ear, making him shiver again.

“You couldn’t honestly see everything.” He turned in Crowley’s grasp, just enough to look at him.

“Everything angel.” He said, voice just a rumble in his throat now.

“And I wanted it.” a whisper as he pressed forward. His nose brushing Aziraphale’s as he groaned and bit his lip, turning away from Crowley again.

“Really my dear-“

“I did. I wanted you. All of you.” He moved fast then, snaking his way around Aziraphale, to stand in front of him, the backs of his thighs bumping the table of books they’d been standing in front of.

“Still do.” His fingers slipped under the angel’s vest, hands moving over that soft white shirt underneath, pushing the vest off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Aziraphale’s cheeks were red, his neck growing red as well as Crowley looked at him. His fingers resting on the buttons of that white shirt. Buttons that he longed undo.

“What’s under this shirt, could never. _Ever_. Disappoint me.” He lifted his eyebrows, for emphasis, looking at his angel with determination. Aziraphale swallowed hard.

“I know the curves under this shirt. I _know_ them. I’ve seen them for 6000 years angel. And wanted them. Wanted to look at them.” He pushed a button through, waited for Aziraphale to stop him. Smiled when he didn’t.

“Wanted to touch them.” Another button, pushed gently through. Aziraphale shivered again.

“Wanted to kiss them.” Another button followed whispered words.

“Aziraphale.” His hands stopped, for a moment. The angel’s wide eyes moved from his hands to his face.

“Hmm?” This small hum, barely audible over the rain pounding against the windows and their hearts pounding in their chest.

“Tell me to stop. And I’ll stop.” Another button, and another. He reached Aziraphale’s neck, pulled his bow tie loose with one hand, making Aziraphale groan again. The last button. Crowley’s eyes searched Aziraphale’s face. The angel nodded, though he was trembling beneath Crowley’s gentle touch. He pushed the last button through, smiling softly as he moved his hands down, parting the angel’s shirt, at long last exposing parts of his angel he’d been longing to see.

Aziraphale moved then. Finally. His hands coming to rest on Crowley’s wrists again.

“I- I don’t-“ he huffed a laugh again, clearly flustered and out of words.

“You’re beautiful.” Crowley sighed, his eyes not moving from Aziraphale’s chest and stomach. The angel huffed again and Crowley did look up. His eyes hard suddenly, the yellow in them having long since bled out to engulf his eyes.

“You are. So beautiful.” He moved his hands, pressed them past the shirt to touch, a searing press of skin against skin. Aziraphale gasped at the touch.

“All of you.” Crowley breathed, staring into Aziraphale’s eyes as his thumbs brushed small circles into the soft skin on his angel’s stomach.

“Every.” A kiss. Pressed gently to the angel’s forehead.

“Single.” Two kisses. One for each eyelid.

“Inch.” Another kiss. Pressed to Aziraphale’s lips this time. Deepened by the angel, pulling him close frantically, humming into his mouth as Crowley touched and touched and touched him. Hands moving over soft skin, fingers pressing in, pulling closer, sounds dragged through clenched teeth. They moved together, pushing and pulling in a maddening rhythm until they were both panting on the floor, the rain covered windows now covered in fog, the heat pouring off Crowley something he could never control. Aziraphale rested on top of Crowley, they lay there, pressed chest to chest, the shirt long forgotten.

Crowley moved his fingers slowly up and down Aziraphale’s back, relishing the feeling of soft skin beneath his fingers. Aziraphale sighed, his body a wonderful steady weight on Crowley’s chest.

“Alright angel?” he asked, voice muddied with affection and afterglow. The angel sighed again, and nuzzled into his chest before shifting, laying his hands flat on Crowley’s chest, resting his chin on them and looking at him.

“More than alright I think.” He hummed, smiling up at him. Crowley moved his hand to the angel’s cheek, his fingers moving gently into his sweaty hair.

“How do you always know?” he asked, looking at Crowley with love in his eyes. Crowley shrugged, pouting his lips momentarily, before smiling fondly down at him.

“You’re easy angel. Always have been.” He shrugs again, just one shoulder moving against the rug on the bookshop floor.

“I’m _easy_?” Aziraphale gapes, his face full of accusation and cheer.

“Well..” Crowley moves his hand in their general direction, motioning over them both sprawled on the floor, naked.

“Obviously.” He settles his hand on Aziraphale’s back again.

The angel looks at him. For a long moment, eyes moving slowly over Crowley’s face to the point where he nearly starts squirming under the scrutiny, and then he’s laughing. Full belly laughing, his head falls back to Crowley’s chest as he clings to him. Crowley watches him for a moment, soaks in the happiness flooding off his angel, filling the air around them with a pleasant warm feeling. And then he joins him, the laugh bubbling up from his chest, where his angel lies.

They lay there, curled together, full of happiness, and love. And they laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys like this!!!! Also there is a line from Casanova in here cuz like... i love David Tennant and his Casanova was so good and that line kills me every. single. time. anywho, i hope you guys like it!!! it got a bit steamier than i expected but i think it turned out well!!! thanks for reading as always!!! <3


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